Merrick

We got out of the pick up, getting looks from the Tribecans, amid the Porsches,

Lamborghini’s, we were a little….out of place?

Fook em.

I

asked Merrick

‘This fellah’s name again?’

‘Bob Temar’

Looked at me, snapped

‘You need to keep up to speed hot shot.’

Regretted leaving the slugger behind. I asked

‘And we’re getting to see this high flier, how?’

‘I lied, said we were cops.’

Ol Bob’s office’s/surgery, were discretely opulent. Glass front, nothing showy, his name,

Robert Temar, on a simple brass plate, and a whole shit load of letters after it. I said

‘A player, right?

Merrick was checking the frontage, answered

‘Oh yeah, a heavy hitter, cash wise.’

We went in, a quiet crowd of people in the waiting room, thumbing through the very

latest People, Entertainment Weekly, probably checking to see if they featured. The

receptionist was a ringer for Lindsay Lohan, her rehab stint perhaps. She looked at us,

knew we weren’t……..players. Said in a frozen Margarita tone

‘”Yes.’

The assembly looked up, her tone signaling

‘Intruders.’

As in……….the hired help are in the front office.

I said

‘Don’t get your knickers in a twist, Bob is expecting us.’

Trying to keep the fury out of my tone.

Merrick whispered

‘Jesus, shut the fuck up, I’ll l do the talking.’

Merrick led the way down a deep carpeted hall, knocked on a door, heard

‘Enter.’

Bob was from Central Casting via Stanley Tucci, if you’re going to be bald, go the Tucci

route. Bob had.

Beautiful grey suit, that kind that sneered at you

‘Loser.’

His perfect tan, grey tinted glassed to accessorize his suit, tall, over Six.two, with a build

that he spent a whole shit load of time in the Tribeca gym, they probably had frequent

flier miles.

Bad mouth though, no amount of bucks could hide the mean downturn. He said, in a

cultured tone, a guy who never had to raise his voice, it got done, why you had the mega

bucks

‘Ah, the gentlemen from the NYPD, may I see some credentials?’

He was good, had the shit down.

Merrick gave him his winning smile, said, warmly

‘We’re no longer with The Department, we’re private.’

Bob looked like someone had given him an enema, snapped

‘Then you’re here under false pretensions, perhaps I should give a call to The Police

Commissioner, former patient of mine, reason he has that winning smile.’

Merrick was all balm, said

‘No Need Doctor, I mean, we’re investigating a child murder, how would it look if The

Daily News had a story that the top dentist in Manhattan lawyered up over this?’

Bob smiled, a predatory one, mind fucking, this guy invented the game, said

‘Ah, the feeble threats. I’m disappointed but to get you out of here, what did you want to

know?’

Merrick slapped two photo’s of the dead kids on the pristine mahogany desk, asked

‘Ever see those children before.’

Bob smiled, a mirthless thing that made your blood blow colder, he said

‘Really, Morton, if I were the…..how do you term it in police parlance?….the

perpetrator, would I say………….Yes, I know them or deny any knowledge?’

Merrick was losing it, I could see it in the rise of his shoulders, he said, gritted teeth

‘It’s Merrick, so you haven’t seen them?’

‘No.’

Merrick grabbed the pictures, said

‘Thank you for your time, sorry to bother you.’

Bob was looking at me, a light in his eyes, asked

‘Your partner, he’s a mute, he isn’t allowed to speak?’

I moved forward, pushing Merrick’s restraining arm aside, said

‘You can glance at two murdered kids and adopt t a fookin sardonic tone? ‘

His smile widened, he said

‘Irish and with the usual foul tongue, you’re a long way from home Paddy.’

I put my index finger on the lapel of his gorgeous suit, said

‘You know what that means?’

The smile never wavered, he said

‘That a Mick could never hope to aspire to it?’

I gave him one of my own smiles, said

‘’Touchable.’